


False Memories

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly post Origin, S5, where Angel does talk to Wesley about what happened.  Winter of Wes fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	False Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

**_False Memories_**  
Set immediately post-Origin, S5 of AtS

 

Illyria left a few moments later, as Wesley continued staring into the windowpane. Years seemed to have passed since he had looked into the mirror that morning- his pale was paler, more tired and drawn. His eyes were darker, and even he could see the shock in them. 

It was the shock, he supposed, that was allowing him to think this all through, without completely losing it and going over the edge.

Angel had lied to all of them; had taken away the memories of the past year, in order to take over this firm. Why? Why would Angel... do that to them? They had trusted him, following him even into the pits of hell (also known as the belly of the beast, Wolfram and Hart), without question.

Of course, there had been... a type of bribe for each of them. Unlimited science materials and workspaces for Fred, books and resources for himself, who-knew-what for Charles, and... the CEO position for Angel, of course.

How hadn’t they noticed? How had they all missed so many blurred spots in their memories, where things didn’t fit together, where there was no explanation for so many things? For instance, why Darla had reappeared all of a sudden, why they had protected Darla from Holtz, or why Sahjhan had had the vendetta against Angel. There were vague explanations, but they were… well, vague didn’t even begin to describe them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_The hotel was surrounded, and all the entrances blocked. Wesley didn’t know why Wolfram and Hart, or any of the other demon parties, were here; what would they want with Angel and Darla all of a sudden?_

_“Lorne?” Fred asked, voice shaky. “Why did you have the Furies shield the sewer access? Didn’t you think maybe we’d need to escape?”_

_Lorne flinched, then said, “Well, excu-use me! I didn’t think that there would be demons here to take down the shield!”_

_“Children, can we not do this?” Angel asked, and Wesley glanced at him. Darla was still smirking at all of them, and Wesley resisted the urge to stake her. Since her return, she had been nothing but trouble - bringing Wolfram and Hart’s attention and forces to bear; bringing Holtz from the past, and more demon tribe than he had seen since – well, ever._

_From upstairs, where he was looking out the windows, Wesley could hear Gunn announcing the sunset, and Wesley tensed. It was going to start soon... Gunn was calling that the demons were already coming out; the sect starting to dissemble the shield around the hotel. The younger man came down the stairs, readying himself for battle. As they wished each other luck, Wesley tensed again… This battle was going to turn out badly, he could feel it..._

_And yes, indeed, there was the ripple of power as the shield surrounding the hotel fell. Wesley could feel it in the air, and gripped his flame-thrower tighter. There was no running from this... Next to him, Gunn positioned himself, while behind them, Cordelia and Fred, both looking pale as they prepared for battle._

_Surprisingly, only one group of people walked in... led by Holtz. Holtz glanced around casually, as the other backed up slightly, allowing Angel to come to the front. Behind them, more humans, carrying various weapons, emerged from the basement access._

_“It looks like you’ve made a comfortable life for yourself, Angelus...” Holtz mused. As Angel and Holtz talked, Wesley moved up slightly, edging to Angel’s right. Holtz, from all accounts, would let the others do the fighting, and stand back. Meanwhile, Wesley planned to be there to help Angel as much as he could, while Gunn defended the girls, and Darla watched, amused._

__Of course... _Wesley thought irritably._ She’s going to let us do the fighting, while she sits and laughs at us... why are we defending her again? __

_“I want to keep Angelus alive...” Holtz paused, as if considering. “But not well.” And instantly, his group charged forward. Gunn and Angel took point, beginning to defend the girls as long as they could. One man was sent smashing into the weapons cabinet, making Wesley wonder how many more times they would have to replace that before it was utterly destroyed._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

How often had he wondered that night why they were protecting Darla? How often had the others? And they had never asked Angel, nor had Angel explained it to them, in the fake memories. Of course- if the memories were blurred enough, they should take them as in the past... no one should worry about specific details.

Meanwhile, the fact that Darla had been pregnant... was unbelievable. Inconceivable... although, of course, the irony of that word was now apparent... Wesley chuckled bleakly. 

Wesley reached for a glass, to pour himself a drink, preferably alcoholic. Then he paused. No, he didn’t need to go there again. Being drunk was unpleasant, even though the numbing of his thoughts was reassuring enough. Even if it was causing harm to his body, what reason did he have to live? He had stolen Angel's child, and in those dark, lost days shortly thereafter, the alcohol-numbed part of his mind... had not really cared. About anything really... except when Fred was threatened. Or when Angel had gone missing...

In the other set of memories, there was no clear-cut reason why Wesley had drifted away from the group. He had still been part of the team, never in that painful isolation. He had changed his look, sure, but it was just contacts and a hair cut. He wore jeans even more frequently then, and sometimes grew just a bit of stubble. 

Cordelia had teased him, saying that he looked all dark and handsome, and ‘are you trying to be more like Angel? ‘Cause we already have one tall, dark, and handsome man around here...’ She had smirked, and swept out of the office, leaving Wesley feeling confused. He was imitating Angel?

Meanwhile, he had remained part of the group, happy, and... loved. He had still been part of the family, and why should it have been any different? He had proven himself in the fight against Holtz, even winning a small gesture from Angel; that showed that he, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, had finally found somewhere to belong.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Wesley ducked the club that had been aiming for his face, and kicked out, sending the man sprawling to the floor, doubled over holding his stomach. Wesley kicked the man in the side of head, making sure he wasn’t going to get back up._

_He glanced around for a second, seeing that the tide was about to turn- Holtz’s ranks had thinned, while the Angel Investigations team was still strong and firm..._

_Across the room, Cordelia was backed against the wall, swinging her sword, but being blocked. She shrieked slightly, and Wesley moved to go to her aid, when suddenly Gunn, bruised and bleeding, but still going strong, appeared. He took the guy down, then whirled around to defend himself against another man._

_Close to them, Angel was fighting single-mindedly, moving with such speed that his enemies never had a chance. Angel was in front of Fred, who was helping by hitting people over the head whenever she had a chance. Angel kicked his opponent aside, then glanced up, meeting Wesley’s eyes for a second. Angel began to say something, before his eyes widened in horror._

_“Wes!” Angel... screamed?_ No, that can’t be right... _Wesley thought. He had a split second, when he began to turn around, before an arm wrapped itself around his collarbone from behind, and another hand came up, wielding a sharp blade. He was yanked back, before the blade was dragged across his throat, right to left._

_From there, everything got a bit blurry... a fragment of memory, where Angel literally_ flew _into the face of Wesley’s attacker, as Wesley dropped to his knees. His throat was on fire, burning, as the blood began to seep through Wesley’s fingers._

_Another fragment, where Angel picked him up, carrying him as though he were no more than a child, yelling for someone to get the car around front **now** , dammit, and for Wes to please hold on, he couldn’t die now._

_Wesley closed his eyes._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What a contrast... one reality, where he had been loved, accepted, and happy, and another, where he had been hurt, isolated, hated, and more.

_God, no wonder Angel was distant with me this year..._ Wesley thought. _I stole his son, and he... it’s a wonder he didn’t ignore me utterly this year..._

There was no way Wesley deserved to have forgotten what he had done. He had hurt his best friend, taken away the one thing more precious to him than his soul, and failed utterly. The child had fallen into the grasp of Holtz, one of the very people Wesley had been trying to keep the child away from.

How could he have ever believed in the prophecy? _Too many long, lonely nights in the office..._ A voice whispered to him. _Nothing better to do, and the others all wrapped up in their new love lives to see you were falling to pieces right in front of them..._

Fred and Gunn, utterly consumed by their new-found relationship, gazing into one another’s eyes as if nothing else existed. It was beautiful, Wesley had to admit. In a world where their lives were constantly in danger, where the dark places of the world heralded more than just shadows and bad thoughts, they had found something to smile about, to be happy about...

Wesley wished that he could have found someone to give him that bounce in his step, that light in his eyes, that knowledge of something wonderful, the secret that everyone wants to know, yet only a few ever truly discover.

Cordelia and Angel... well... Cordelia and Angel both loved each other; anyone could see that. As close friends, most certainly. As more than that? Well, it was certainly getting to that point... Wesley had once been part of the core group of Angel Investigations, but... since Angel and Cordy had begun to grow inexorably closer, he found himself shoved further away, in both sets of memories.

Yes, Angel still talked with Wes, still spent time just hanging out with him- but that was growing less and less. Yes, Cordy still teased Wesley, but not as much anymore- she was more serious, training with Angel more often... Angel had started to forget training sessions with Wesley, who, while getting more adept with weapons with every battle, still needed a little more practice, he thought. Angel had... drifted away, becoming distant with everyone who wasn’t Cordelia.

Wesley couldn’t blame him, but... that hurt. He had been part of the trio, and then two had fallen for each other (try as they might to deny it), pushing the third away, the ever-popular third wheel.

But then, Cordelia had been in a coma... Angel never talked about her these days. Wesley went down and visited the girl who had been his sister often, but never knew if Angel did or not. There was no evidence of him doing so, not to mention, Angel... never mentioned her, and when anyone else brought her up, Angel ignored it for the most part.

When Cordelia died... was one of the few times this last year that Angel had allowed Wes to see his emotions. They had been waiting for Angel and Cordy to join them at the bar... but that had never happened. 

After waiting a couple of hours, the others had decided to go home. Meanwhile, Wes had gone back to the office, seeking Angel. When he found him... the vampire had been sitting in the dark, face blank, eyes confused. Together... he and Wes had just sat in silence, lighting a single candle, then drinking until Wes was drunk enough to pass out.

The next morning, Wesley had woken up alone in Angel’s office with a blanket draped over him, from a nightmare about Cordy. A nightmare, where Cordelia had been laughing at them all, because no one knew that her pregnancy wasn’t real, that the baby was demonic. Laughing, because they didn’t know she wasn’t herself...

He had discarded the nightmare; after all, she had just died, and... Angel was nowhere in sight. Shouldn’t he be behind his desk, complaining about all his paperwork? Wesley rubbed his eyes- he hadn’t thought Angel had a meeting today... Wesley had a meeting or two, yes, but Angel rarely went to any meetings; he disliked them. Confused, he glanced at Angel’s desk, where a message in Harmony’s big, loopy handwriting informed Angel of a meeting.

Wesley’s schedule had been cleared for the day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“Is she going to wake up?” A shaky voice asked. Wesley looked up from where he held Cordelia’s hand in both of his, into Angel’s sad, sad face._

_“I don’t know, Fred,” Angel said, his voice thick. Wesley could see that the vampire was holding back an immense flood of emotion; meanwhile, Fred stared at Cordelia, shaking her head in denial._

_“No. She’s gonna wake up, and she’ll be right as rain, you’ll see...” Her Texan accent was more noticeable, the way it always was whenever the slim young woman got worked up or excited. “She’s gonna wake up, any minute now,” she said stubbornly._

_“Fred,” Gunn said in a weak voice. “Stop.”_

_“No!” Fred looked like she was about to cry, and Angel turned away, silent. Wesley glanced back down at Cordelia’s hand, struggling against his tears. “Y’all can’t give up on her! It’s Cordelia!”_

_“Baby... shh.” Gunn pulled Fred into his arms, hugging her tightly. Wesley bowed his head, one tear falling on Cordelia’s hand. Then, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Angel, face hard, etched in stone._

_“Angel?” Wesley whispered. Angel just looked at him, cold and distant. Lost. “Did you-?”_

_“Kill Jasmine?” Angel asked softly. “Yes.” Wes nodded, slipping a hand up to hesitantly touch Angel’s on his shoulder. Jasmine... the demon goddess had somehow infected Cordelia, impregnating her._

__’What is it with demons wanting me to give birth to their spawn?!” _Cordelia had shrieked, in the last few minutes before she had disappeared. The demon goddess had taken her to a hidden location, to give birth to itself. Meanwhile... they had finally found her, after searching throughout the battle. Wesley... had almost lost hope, but... this was almost worse than seeing Cordy dead._

_If Cordy was dead... at least it was final. This... this was prolonging the hurt, the agony. They didn’t know if she would wake up or not, if she would ever be the same... she was alive, yes, but still not with them- a cruel joke. Giving back the one thing they wanted most, but still not being able to reach her, to have her... She might never smile again, laugh with them (or at them) again, or complain about Angel again..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wesley leaned his head forward against his desk, resting for a few seconds, before sighing. He rose wearily, shutting off the office lights. It was late... he should be getting home.

Home, where it was warm, yet impersonal. Home, where he spent so little time; he spent more time in the office than anywhere else... but then, it had been that way for the past four years or so now.

Wesley pushed out of the office, and was startled to find a pale face with translucent blue eyes looking at him. He jumped, then stepped back, sighing and running a hand through his hair.

“Illyria. What now?”

“You still cringe from the truth... does it not help you to solve your mysteries?” The blue goddess tilted her head, and Wesley frowned. A constant reminder... Fred was gone. He had finally earned Fred’s affections, after so long, and... He had shattered the box, wondering if the deal Angel had made would truly sacrifice Fred.

Had he truly thought Angel would do that? It had only been a few short hours ago, but it felt as if years had passed. Angel had been acting so odd, though... Wes had followed him, hoping for answers to his grief-stricken questions.

Only... that boy had been Angel’s son? Angel had had a son? Even with the memories restored, Wesley had a hard time believing it... Angel had had a son, a son that, instead of being two like he should have been, was nineteen or so, because of Wesley’s mistake,

How could this all have happened? How could it all have gone so badly, so far downhill? Darla, Holtz, Connor, Cordelia, Fred, Illyria... all in the space of two years, everything had come crumbling down. A wall of darkness was creeping closer, overtaking all in its path, and swallowing their team one by one.

“Wesley?” Illyria asked, and Wesley realized he had been silent for a long time. Fatigue, shock, and confusion were all taking their toll, he realized, as he blinked.

And darkness fell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel glanced up as his door flew open. Illyria strode in, her leather and glare making an impressive image, one that would have any normal man either quivering in excitement, or cowering in terror.

Angel wasn’t a normal man.

Illyria was nothing more than an annoyance to Angel, a reminded of another failure. He could have saved Fred, yes, but... Fred would have hated him. To take millions of lives, for just one? It would not have been fair... and so here this goddess was, arrogant, blue, and a reminder of the fact that... his friends were still all mortals. They could still die at anytime, in this battle... and two already had.

Everyday, Illyria strode around, producing different responses in all that she crossed. In Wesley... grief so strong it was literally, progressively dragging the man toward the edge of sanity. Wes had been through a lot... but this was another heavy loss for him. Wesley didn’t deserve this grief, but there was nothing Angel could do about it.

In Spike, regret, same as Angel. Regret that they couldn’t have found another way to save the young woman who was still innocent in so many ways. In Gunn, shame. Shame that he had unknowingly brought this... thing, into their midst; for sacrificing the woman he still loved- all for a brain implant so he could feel more useful. Illyria was a walking reminder for all of them.

“Illyria,” he said flatly. “What do you want?” Usually, this was the quiet part of the night. Sometimes, Wesley took Illyria home with him, Spike was off... annoying whoever he annoyed when he wasn’t bugging Angel, and Gunn... well, who knew with him these days?

“You will come with me now,” Illyria said. Angel merely raised an eyebrow.

“I will?” Illyria merely looked at him, disapproving, and nodded imperiously.

“Wesley has fallen. You will come,” She said again, and Angel started. Illyria, realizing she had his attention, was already turning and leaving. Wes had fallen... what? As Angel got up, wondering what was going on, he shoved his darker thoughts aside for the moment.

Earlier, Wes had shattered the Window, and had looked utterly lost. As Angel followed Illyria through the labyrinth of the corridors of W&H, the image of the last glimpse he had seen of Wes that day stuck in his head.

The wide, horror-struck blue eyes, filled with hurt, betrayal, confusion, disbelief, and something that looked similar to... how Angel had felt, after getting his soul back and realizing what he had done. The slack mouth, the face ingesting the truth and horror of the past year and a half- Wesley looked soul-sick.

The past year and a half, which Angel had replaced with happier memories in the minds of his closest friends. The time in which Wesley had been hurt the most he had been in Los Angeles, when everything that had happened to them had been explained, and they realized that there were bigger forces out there than W&H.

Angel wished that he could have spared Wes that pain. He had told the man not to shatter that damn box... but Wes had gone ahead and done it anyway, not trusting him. Not believing that Angel hadn’t sacrificed Fred in order to gain the control of Wolfram and Hart. It had hurt... this man, who had once trusted him above all, believed in him… had actually believed Angel capable of sacrificing one of his friends for more power? What would make Wesley believe that? Why would he ever think that Angel would do that?

It might have been because of grief... Angel knew how much Wesley had wanted Fred’s affections, had wanted Fred to see him the way he had seen her for the past two years. But just because he was so grief stricken, did that mean that he would think Angel would willingly sacrifice the life of one of his closest friends, especially after just losing Cordelia? How in the world could Wesley think that? It... hurt.

The revelation of the memory wipe could not have helped Wesley’s image of Angel any... that huge {of} a secret, kept from them? Angel wouldn’t blame Wes if he hated him now... he had taken away part of their lives, part of their memories... and now, they knew.

Ahead of them, Angel saw a crumpled form on the floor, Illyria standing over the form. Angel neared, and saw that it was Wesley. A small pang went through him- what had happened? A few hours ago, he had been... well, not fine, but... conscious. He didn’t smell drunk, and there was no scent of blood, which meant at least he hadn’t been attacked. Not that Angel could tell, anyway.

Glancing at Illyria, he asked, “What happened?”

“I asked him a question, and his weak mortal body was silent, before falling.” Illyria tilted her head at the figure, and said quietly, “The sorrow was repulsive...”

“Sorrow?” Angel asked, before kneeling next to Wesley. Then again... sadness was kinda expected, because Wesley had just discovered that most of the past year and a half, or so, was a lie, and he hadn’t exactly been happy before that, because Cordelia had died, then Fred... Wes was anything but happy these days. Truth be told, Angel couldn’t remember when he had seen his friend truly happy. _Angel_ was the one who was supposed to have the perfect happiness curse, not Wes...

Angel could hear Wesley’s heart rate, beating faster than it should have been, an odd contrast to Wesley’s deep and even breathing. Meanwhile, the man’s face was still twisted in sorrow, which struck another chord in Angel. The younger man already had enough to deal with... he hadn’t needed anymore strain brought on by the release of the memory wipe.

“He was deeply saddened and hurt by your betrayal,” Illyria said. “These new memories... they caused him grief.” Illyria frowned, and added, “I am unfamiliar with this... why does he choose to feel so grieved?”

“Betrayal?” Angel snapped. “I didn’t...” _betray them..._ , Angel thought to himself. But then again... hadn’t he? He knew Wes sometimes only valued himself as worth as much as he knew or was able to find. The realization that there were so many memories missing in his mind... must have felt almost, but not quite, like Angel had when his son was stolen by his best friend.

Finally, Angel said heavily, “He isn't choosing to feel this way, Illyria. No one... chooses how they feel.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“Wesley took the baby... and he’s not bringing him back.” Angel froze, looking at Lorne. Lorne, who had never steered them wrong yet. Lorne, who now had a bump on his head, courtesy of Wesley, who Angel had... trusted._

_Wesley... no. Wes wouldn’t have taken Angel’s baby away forever. Wesley knew that the baby meant more to Angel than anything else ever would... and Wes was his best friend. They had been through so much together, just as Angel and Cordy had. Wesley would never hurt Angel..._

_Wes was honest, caring, and smart. Angel knew his best friend, and couldn’t believe..._ wouldn’t _believe that Wes would ever do something like this. Not Wes, who was clumsy sometimes, sure, but brave as all hell despite his mortality. Not Wes, who would willingly follow Angel to Hell and back if it meant saving just one person, even if it meant his own death. Not Wes, who had come so close to his own death not once but twice now, and still chose to fight by Angel’s side._

_There was no way..._

_Yet Lorne... was saying that Wesley, Angel’s friend... would steal the vampire’s child? Why? Angel had thought they were friends, family. Angel had thought... they loved each other. This was a hell of a lot more family than Wes had had, Angel knew that. This was more family than Angel had thought he would ever have... Wesley wouldn’t. It wasn’t Wes, was it? His best friend?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel picked Wesley up, bringing him upstairs to his office, then, on second thought, up to his apartment. Illyria followed silently, a witness to the tension and concern that twisted the air inside the penthouse. Angel set Wes on the couch, then dragged a chair over and sat down.

It wasn’t right... Wesley’s heart was beating faster than it should be, yet his breathing was slow and steady as if he was simply sleeping. He didn’t have a fever, and he didn’t look sick... what was going on? If he had simply fainted, there was no reason for his heart to be like this, and he should have woken up by now.

“Illyria,” Angel finally asked, “Did you hear Wes... doing anything with magic?”

“No,” Illyria frowned. “He just sat in the dark, grieving.”

“Okay, enough with the grieving,” Angel said. He reached for Wesley’s shoulder, shaking him. “Wake up, Wesley. Come on.”

“What reason is there?” Angel jerked back at the faint mumble, but was further struck by the dazed glare.

“Wes?” Angel asked tentatively. Wes slowly sat up, and Angel backed away slightly. Illyria was watching silently for the moment, and Angel was grateful; it wasn’t often that Illyria was around and silent at the same time. Well, unless she was putting a whole petri dish in her mouth, or beating the crap out of Spike (which, Angel had to admit was pretty amusing. Even over the past century and a half, it _never_ lost its charm).

Wes rose from the couch slowly, determined to leave and go home. At least at home, he didn’t have to deal with Angel trying to understand him, or acting sympathetic and pitying when he really couldn’t give a damn. He took a step-

And immediately began to collapse again; he would have hit the floor, if Angel hadn’t gripped him, then pushed him back onto the couch. Wesley glared at Angel again, then put a shaking hand to his temple, sighing.

“Wes? Are you... ?” Angel trailed off. He knew that Wes wasn’t ‘okay’... and probably wouldn’t be for some time to come. After all, the events of the night, on top of what had happened in the past few months... it always came back to the fact that everything they had built was falling apart, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.

“No, Angel. I’m not okay,” Wesley said. Angel looked down at the floor, as Wesley continued, unable to help himself, “I’ve just been informed that I’ve had my memory wiped, by my best friend, so he could take over an evil law firm. Meanwhile, I didn’t trust you, because I was wrong again. I believed you would hurt someone you loved again, and they died because of that...”

“Wes, Fred didn’t die because of you.” Angel said slowly.

“Oh, didn’t she?” Wesley asked bitterly. “In a way, we’re all here now because of what I did, Angel... you can’t possibly deny that.” Angel didn’t like the look of utter despair and bitter irony that he saw in Wesley’s eyes. No, there was no way he could deny any of this, but... it wasn’t totally Wesley’s fault. _He_ had been the one to agree to the contract with Wolfram and Hart, not Wes. It was _his_ fault that Fred had died, in a way.

“She didn’t die because of you, Wesley. That’s more my fault than yours.” Angel said heatedly, realizing as he said it that it really wasn’t as reassuring as he had intended. Wesley’s gaze, though, was far away, his eyes slightly unfocused. Concerned, Angel leaned forward; the man obviously wasn’t well at all, and how much of that was Angel’s fault?

“The false memories plague him...” Illyria said, tilting her head. Her hand left the plant as she came over, standing in front of Wesley. “You have caused him great strain, half-breed. And the emotion... bothers me.”

“Yeah, good for you,” Angel snapped, leaning over to tap Wesley’s shoulder. “Wes?” He asked. He wondered absently what Wesley must be seeing, what the fake memories were... and he suddenly wondered if this was going to hurt Wes. Gunn didn’t seem to have experienced anything from the memories coming back, but then, he was still distant to begin with. Meanwhile, these memories were wreaking havoc with Wes... how long was that going to last? Was it going to drive Wes permanently over the edge?

“Yes, I do suppose you’d like to know...” Wesley muttered, eyes still unfocused. Angel frowned, just as Wesley’s hand came up, suddenly grabbing Angel’s face. His hand was rough, nothing gentle about the touch, as Wesley muttered something, then said calmly, “A little trick I picked up from one of my new books.”

Angel, on the other hand, was looking horrified. His mind was suddenly filled with images, with emotions, and conflicting memories. Memories which weren’t his own... Angel met Wes’ eyes, and they both closed their eyes simultaneously.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Angel watched the monitors, the room filled with their quiet, steady beeping. Silently, he took the chair at the side of the bed that Cordelia had just vacated. It had been almost twelve hours now, and still... he wouldn’t wake up. The warmth from Cordy’s body was still seeped into the wood of the chair, making Angel feel slightly... odd about that fact when he sat down, dragging the chair closer to the bedside._

_The figure in the bed was pale, brow wrought in a frown even in sleep. The lips were also slightly pulled down, frowning slightly, and Angel wondered if he was having a nightmare. So pale... and the bandages across the throat did little but enforce the image of the dead, lying in state at a funeral..._

_Not something Angel wanted to think about._

_“C’mon, Wes...” Angel whispered. “Please wake up. I... We need you to wake up.”_

The scene flickered, and Angel frowned. That must have been one of the fake memories... but... he had felt the emotion from fake-memory-himself. Concern and worry, deep and painful, for his friend. Wes had had his throat cut, and Angel was-

_Standing over Wesley, face etched in anger, pure emotion. The pillow he held in his hands was thin, hospital issue, and stretched tight over the face under it. The bastard had betrayed him,_ hurt _him... had taken his son, and given it to his enemy. Why? He had trusted Wesley, trusted him, and-_

_And the pillow was over Angel’s face._ His _failure,_ his _loss of the child,_ his _betrayal of his best friend... all for nothing._

_He was being suffocated, felt the utter horror at what he had done... throat slit and close to death anyway, the cruelest revenge, taken by the hands of-_

_His best friend, which were clawing ineffectively at his wrist, pleading him to let go, silently..._

Angel froze. Dammit... this was too much. The memories were some of Wes’, and some of the Angel’s from Wes’ fake memories... they were mixing, leaving Angel feeling even guiltier. In one set of memories, Wesley had never been happy... and in the other, had never been hurt, had never left the family. How the hell did he _expect_ Wesley to react? 

_Everything was so bright... it was warm, though. He had been cold for so long, so lost in the dark... was he finally in Hell? From what he remembered, though, Hell didn’t feel soft. There was something wrapped around him..._

_The light was so harsh... and why wouldn’t they help him? He could see Lorne over him, drinking casually. Angel didn’t want a fucking lullaby, he wanted to know where he was, and how long he had been so cold for._

_Then, there was Connor standing over him... oh, no. His son, with the cold sneer, with the condescending, triumphant look in his eyes, standing over him, mocking him. Wasn’t enough to put his father under the ocean, he had to just stand there, staring at him like scum on his shoe, after sending him to Hell, Hell, Hell..._

_“I should have killed you...” He murmured, and sighed. Connor was lost to him now... his son hated him, when he still shouldn’t have been more than six months old or so by now. What had happened, for this to go so wrong? His son hated him, and thought Angelus had killed his foster-father, Holtz, whom Connor loved... more than he ever could Angel._

_Above him, though, the figure looked... hurt? At his statement? Impossible... Connor didn’t care. The blue eyes above him, though, were shielded by indifference, but Angel’s practiced eye could see through that. He could see the hurt, in those cold blue eyes that were so much like Darla’s and someone else he had once loved and trusted so much... but the innocence in Connor’s eyes, just like that of the other’s, was gone, erased by pain, sorrow, and bitterness._

_Then, there was something warm put against his lips, something slick. A kiss? No, different. Slicker. He turned his head away slightly, but the thing was still there, pressing against him. It was both reassuring and threatening, all at once. The scent finally reached his starved mind, and he flinched. Blood... more. He had enough... but this was... different. Warmer and more alive, sweeter smelling..._ familiar _._

_Against his will, his tongue slipped out, licking, caressing... flesh? Human... so warm and comforting, after so long of cold and isolation. The blood tasted so luxurious after salt water for so long. It tasted rich, slightly dark and hurting, coming from a raw wound, but... it tasted good, so good... he reached up, gripping the arm, pulling it closer..._

__Angel reeled slightly; the impact of having all of these memories was starting to disorient him. It was like having multiple flash backs, all at once, and being unable to focus on anything else; his mind had been hijacked, while physically, it wasn’t unlike being hit by a sledgehammer again.

Then again, it wasn’t unlike what Wesley had gone through upon shattering the box... Angel looked at his friend desperately, before his eyes fell closed again, and he was struck by another shard of memory.

_So worried... Wesley knelt over Angel, rolling him over from his back, while Cordelia lay nearby, still unconscious. The battle had been harsh, and the demons Cordelia had seen in her vision still lay nearby, dead or dying. It wouldn’t be long until the demons were all dead. The sacrifices, all girls, had long since fled, leaving the door open to let the sunlight in._

_Angel groaned as Wes rolled him over, and Wesley moved slower, gently easing his friend over onto his back._

_“Angel? Are you going to be alright?” The fight had been difficult, relentlessly driving Angel back against the wall, while Wesley had struggled to keep his own opponents from killing both Cordelia and himself. It hadn’t been until Cordelia, using that odd glow she had, had gotten suitably pissed off and desperate, that the tides had turned._

_Cordelia, ever since her visions had been rendered painless when she had agreed to become half-demon, had become more serious and focused. She went into the fights with them more often, in addition to starting to help with research. Wesley admired how much she had changed, and couldn’t help watching the girl he called family when she fought. She was a much better fighter than they had ever thought she could be..._

_Not to mention, the powers she had seemed to cultivate, were fascinating. Wesley hadn’t had a chance to examine them much, what with the influx of demon hits. He wished he could find out exactly what skills Cordy had developed, and what the effects were of her ‘demonization’, and how they would affect her further down the line._

_“I’ll be... fine, Wesley,” Angel muttered. The sunlight had streamed in, catching Angel unawares earlier, in addition to all the wounds he had already suffered from the fight. The vampire was looking anything_ but _fine. He would need several days, not to mention lots of pig’s blood, to be anywhere near ‘fine’ in the next few days._

_Making a quick decision, Wesley took his dagger, and wiped it on his pant leg, before drawing it across a cut that was already across the underside of his forearm, making it bleed again. He looked at it for a split-second, before offering it to Angel wordlessly._

_“Wes, no,” Angel said, reaching to push Wesley’s forearm away. Unfortunately, his broken arm prevented that, and he was beaten sufficiently that he really didn’t want to move. He couldn’t help but smell the scent of Wesley’s blood; nothing strange, actually. Because of how often he and his friends fought side by side, he was familiar with the scent of each of their blood._

_“Angel, it’s fine. I’m bleeding anyway, and you need it.” Wesley caught Angel’s eyes, holding them carefully, as he said carefully, “I trust you.”_

_And Angel drank, looking at his friend with a mixture of gratitude, confusion, regret, and pleasure. A heavy look, to be sure._

“Wes,” Angel said softly, forcing his eyes open. Wesley’s eyes didn’t open, but Angel could tell he was listening. “I’m sorry...”

He had wondered throughout the year why Wes had still had his scars... the one across his throat, as well as the one on his forearm, visible only on the rare occasions when Wesley wore a short sleeved shirt.

_”The Father Will Kill The Son...” Wesley mused under his breath. It couldn’t be true. There was no way Angel would kill his baby... he knew that now. He had seen his best friend up there with Connor, holding the child so close, smiling so much it was as if the brooding Angel he had known for two years now had disappeared, being replaced by this cheerful father. This father, who never failed to make Wesley smile at his caring, yet at the same time, feel uncomfortable, because of the simple fact that he knew his own father had most certainly not looked upon Wesley with anything like that kind of expression._

_But then... “Earthquake, Fire, Blood,” Wesley muttered, horrified, looking up at Angel, frozen in horrified astonishment. The vampire had escaped the apartment, then rushed back, grabbing Wesley, and throwing him out into the corridor._

_“...At least I would have had something to snack on...” Angel grinned at the baby in his arms, and Wesley’s world came crashing down around him._

Angel gasped, from both the reality of the emotions he was feeling, overwhelming him, as well as from the look in Wesley’s eyes- lost and bitter.

“Am I hurting enough for you yet?” He asked, and Angel jerked. “Am I paying for stealing your son?” Confused, Angel sat silently as his friend vented. “You can never forgive me... I know that. You just have to make sure that I suffer... taking away my memories, making me believe I still belonged...”

“Wes, no...” Angel said quietly. “I... I signed so-“

“I know why you signed,” Wesley said. “But you didn’t trust us. You didn’t like what had happened to us all, so you just changed us... changed me.”

Angel looked away, and closed his eyes briefly. “I’m... I’m sorry, Wes.” What was he supposed to do? To say? He moved over onto the couch, sitting next to Wes, silent for the moment. Angel noticed that Illyria had left, and he had no idea how long ago. He didn’t even really know how long he had spent sharing the memories with Wes.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Angel said. “I can’t take it back, Wes. My son needed this, a different chance at life; it came at a cost, but you know what? I was willing to pay it... I didn’t think that Fred would be killed later, that Cordy would die. I thought we could be safer here.”

“Safer?” Wesley asked, a tinge of hysteria in his voice. “Safer from what? Wolfram and Hart still wants nothing more than to destroy us, Angel.”

“I know, Wes!” Angel shot back. “Don’t you think I know this?”

“No, I don’t think you do!” Wesley said. “You took this deal, knowing that we wouldn’t remember, knowing that Wolfram and Hart were still going to destroy us slowly but surely. Why? Why would you take this?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Angel replied hotly. “Maybe because now my son can have a normal life. Maybe because the rest of you were somewhat happier again, because you didn’t have to remember all of the hard times. Maybe because now you could _actually look me in the eyes again,_ Wes.” Angel paused, and looked away.

He could remember when Wesley had returned, more or less, to the fold after he had rescued Angel from the bottom of the ocean. Wes had still been unable to meet Angel’s eyes most of the time, had still avoided being alone with Angel most of the time. Meanwhile, though, when Angel had accepted the deal, Wesley had met Angel’s eyes again, had been able to act... more like the Wesley Angel had known and loved for so long.

“I deserved to know what had happened to me, Angel.” Wesley said coldly. “Just because you wanted something back didn’t mean I was ready to give it back. My friendship, for instance. I wasn’t ready to completely trust you again, Angel; and now you see why I can’t!”

“Wes,” Angel started painfully.

“Just because you wanted it back doesn’t mean it was yours to take!” Wesley said. “I did trust you, Angel. I was just starting to trust you again, but now you had to pull something like this, so I act the way you wanted me to? The way I used to before this mess, so you didn’t have to be reminded?”

“Wesley,” Angel tried again.

“It doesn’t work that way-“ Angel cut Wesley off, and glared at the other man.

“Yeah, fine. I wanted your friendship back. You may not believe it, but I did miss you. How many times did I save you last year, when I could have just let you die? How many times did I try to tell you things were fine, that we were fine?

“And yes, I wanted the others to be happier, too. This way, you guys weren’t so damn serious, and... damn.” Angel sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Angel,” Wesley said softly. “I missed you too, but... I betrayed you. I didn’t trust you enough...” Wesley looked away, and Angel sighed again.

“Wes, I saw that memory. You had every reason not to trust me... you just should have talked to us.” He paused, then looked at the younger man, who was older in so many ways. “Wes, look at me. Please,” He added as an afterthought.

Wesley looked at Angel, meeting his eyes for a second, before his eyes slipped away again, just like they had last year. He couldn’t look Angel in the eyes... there was just too much between them. There was no way things would ever be the same between them again... he had made sure of that himself.

“Wes,” Angel said quietly, tipping Wes’ chin up to look at him. “Look at me.” The other man did, his blue eyes heavy and full of guilt and confusion, hurt and loss. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn't,” Wesley said, just as quietly. “I’m sorry, Angel. I...”

He was cut off when Angel gently drew him closer, hugging him. Angel was... holding him. Why? Why would Angel treat him like this, like he actually cared, when it was obvious that he should hate him? Wesley was confused; Angel had been so distant to him, so closed off this year, and now Wesley knew why. But... why didn’t Angel hate him? He should... Wes had proven several times that he wasn’t worthy of the vampire’s trust.

“W-what are you doing?” Wesley asked, confusion in his tone and face.

“Trying to tell you it’s fine,” Angel replied. Wes was rigid in his hold, and Angel relaxed his hold, just trying to reassure him. He wasn’t alone, no matter what he thought. Fred might have died, but... there was still at least one person who cared for him. The only thing was, Angel didn’t really know how to show that. “And that... I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_?” Wesley asked incredulously. Wide eyes turned to Angel, and he said, “You’re... apologizing to me?”

“Yeah, I am,” Angel said. Wesley tried to pull away, but Angel stilled him, wanting him to hear this. Angel had never been good with apologies, and he was only going to say this once. It was hard enough without having to repeat it because Wesley had run away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this, but... it wouldn’t have changed anything with Fred,” Angel said. “You have to know that. The deal never had anything to do with Fred.” However, Angel couldn’t deny that if he hadn’t taken the deal, Fred wouldn’t have died... at least, not the way she had. He couldn’t guarantee she would still be alive, there was always that small chance she would have died another way, but... at least they wouldn’t have to be reminded everyday with Illyria’s presence.

“I’m sorry about how I handled everything when... when Holtz took Connor. I should have at least tried to listen to you."” Angel swallowed harshly; the memories were still clear, and that night was still fresh in his emotions. Realizing that his best friend had stolen his child, hadn’t trusted him... but both sides of that equation were to blame. Angel for not trying to listen, and Wes for not trying to tell anyone.

Wesley pulled away, and Angel let him; Wes stayed where he was next to Angel, but was looking at Angel with something between amazement and confusion.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked.

“Because I need you to be okay, Wes,” Angel said. “You and Gunn are the only two I have left, and Gunn I don’t even see anymore. I can’t lose anyone else.” Angel met Wesley’s eyes evenly. Wesley was silent.

Suddenly, Angel leaned in, kissing Wesley briefly on the lips. It was a gentle, chaste kiss, with nothing passionate behind it. Angel’s lips felt soft but firm, with none of the giving nature of a woman’s lips. It was odd, Wesley thought briefly, kissing a man’s mouth, which was wider than a woman’s. Wider than Fred’s...

Wes pulled back, confused, but Angel’s mouth was already gone. Angel was looking at him to judge his reaction, and Wesley felt frozen in confusion.

“A-Angel?”

“I can’t lose anyone else,” Angel repeated. With that, Angel got up, and began to retreat to his bedroom. Wesley sat there for another moment, before standing up also.

“I don’t know if I can make that promise,” Wesley said clearly. Angel stopped, but didn’t turn around. “There’s nothing left for me.”

“That’s not true,” Angel said quietly. “Would Fred want you to give up?” Wesley winced. He knew that Fred wouldn’t want him to give up, but... Fred had been destroyed. He would never see her again... but he still knew what she would have wanted.

“No, but... she’s gone, Angel.” Wesley sighed heavily. “I won’t know what she wanted.”

“That’s no excuse.” Angel paused, then said, “And if you think no one is left who cares... you’re wrong. I just wish I could give you something to live for.”

Wesley was confused; was Angel saying... he wanted him, or was he just saying that as a friend? Either way, he was confused. He had wanted nothing more, for so long, than Fred’s love, the way he had loved her. He had finally gotten it, and it hadn’t lasted. Nothing he had ever had, had ever lasted more than a short while at best. His ill-fated crush on Cordelia, his attempted normal relationship with Virginia, not to mention Lilah, and of course Fred...

“Angel?” Wesley finally asked. Angel turned around, and walked back over, looking Wesley in the eyes, before kissing Wesley again. Unable to help himself, Wesley began to press forward, wanting something, wanting actual physical contact. However, Angel gently pushed him away.

“Wes,” Angel said softly. “No. I’m not doing this because I expect anything back. I’m doing this so you know... you’re not alone. And... someone cares.” Wesley looked at Angel, confused. Angel nodded, and moved off, leaving Wesley standing in the middle of the apartment, bewildered, for some time before leaving and going to his own home, cozy yet impersonal.


End file.
